


Scars on Silence

by vharrison



Category: Cirque du Freak | The Saga of Darren Shan - Darren Shan
Genre: F/M, Multi, Sorcerers, Sorceresses, Vampaneze, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vharrison/pseuds/vharrison
Summary: The War of Scars ended in uncertainty - no one had truly won. With peace still far on the horizon, a new group of creatures enter the stage - the sorcerers. Vampire and Vampaneze aren't the only creatures fighting for the crown now, and only time will tell who will rule over the night.
Relationships: Alice Burgess/Vancha March, Gannen Harst/OC, Lady Evanna/Gannen Harst/Vancha March
Kudos: 2





	1. Beastie

_This is an ongoing situation, we will continue to report._

The dull hum of the TV faded to background noise. Figures of all shapes and sizes sat silently staring at the broadcast, not even a breath could be hear. Dressed in all black; some in velvet, other in silk or fine pressed linen, the gaggle of individuals looked like beautiful shadows. The room sat still for a moment, before stirring with the sudden movement of bodies shift in every direction. Ten men and women rose, moving swiftly in the dark. Four of the women left without a word, heading in the direction of the stadium. The five men grabbed all assortments of weapons and metal tools, following quickly behind the women. A lone figure – the last woman – sat wide eyed staring up at the screen. Her brilliantly grey eyes studied the broadcast, scanning every figure that graced the screen. Her mouth sat pursed on her smooth, thin face as she waited a moment, taking in everything that was presented by the newscaster. After a moment of reflection, the woman rose and made her way into the darkness toward the battle. 

Toward destiny. 

# __________

If the constant clanging of metal or pop of bullets wasn’t enough indication of the massacre that was taking place, then the smell of flesh and blood was. 

The grey eyed woman slipped silently through the chaos, her gazed lifted upward to the top of the stadium. There they stood; figures of her comrades draped in shadows standing still on the top edges of the field. Standing like protective gargoyles on a cathedral, her companions motionlessly watched the carnage continue. Alone, wandering through the fighting and the bloodshed, the grey eyed woman continued on. As she moved, loose black curls swayed madly around her slim face. Her velvet gown, black and fluttering like the wings of a raven, trailed the bloodied grass as she walked. Tight across her waist with quarter length sleeves the clung to her slightly muscled arms; a large golden lion shaped pin attached to the top of the slit in the dresses skirt gleamed in the moonlight. The stark difference of a petite woman in a black flowing gown would have made any normal crowd pause, but amongst the battle, no one batted an eye. 

The young woman took note of every creature she passed. Much to her surprise, not only were there vampires and vampaneze amongst the dead, but humans and circus freaks as well. Grey eyes travelled from brawl to brawl, before landing on a rather impressive looking bearded woman, snapping the neck of a vampaneze soldier with the strands of her beard hair. Pausing with brows raised, the raven-haired woman watched in silent curiosity. As the man’s limp body fell to the ground in a slump, the young woman clapped in soft amusement. 

**“Bravo,”** she whispered with a gentle smile, before turning to continue on. 

A cackle rang loud above the chaos, causing the woman to come to a halt. She stared, wide eyed in front of her in the direction of the laughter. Above the roar of battle, she could hear him, that bloody man who controlled her fate. A scowl now set upon her face, the woman gazed up one last time at her comrades - who now all stared down at her - before turning on her heels and heading to the tunnel where the laughter protruded from. 

# __________

Stepping through the damp tunnel away from the stadium, the young woman listened carefully as the laughter stopped, only to be replaced by a howl of rage. Shouting ensued, followed by grunts, leading the woman to believe a brawl had broken loose. Moving quickly, the woman made her way out of the tunnel, only to find a river and two shapes falling into it. Confused, the raven-haired woman stopped, observing her surroundings. Two men – young, had fallen limp into the water, covered in blood. Standing by the water’s edge, a large woman dressed only in ropes, stared slack jawed. Beside her, stood the source of that dreadful laughter. A grimace set firmly on her face; the grey eyed woman began to step slowly toward the man in the yellow rain boots. A golden glow began to emanate from her hands; a look of determined fury set in her eyes. 

**“No, sister.”**

A familiar voice echoed in the darkness, causing the grey eyed woman to stop. Glancing over, she saw the sorceress, Evanna, her older sister, staring dead at her. Stiffening, the glow emanating from the women’s fingers faded away. The man in the yellow boots had now taken notice, and a psychotic grin stretched from ear to ear. 

**“Best listen to your sister, little cub. Your time will come soon enough”**

His voice felt like a thousand needles stabbing the woman’s senses, making her cringe. Her pulse quickened as she glared over at the fat man – at her own father. She wanted to claw at him, to smash his head into the dirt, but she knew this was a lost cause. So, she stood still and proud as her sister ushered her father away from the scene. She stood tall as her father began to cackle and mock her. She stood firm as Des-Tiny mocked her all the way back to the hole he crawled out of. 

Fucking destiny. 

# __________

The raven-haired woman stood still by the water for a few moments, still reeling from the sight of her father. Once her heartrate had calmed down, the woman tossed her hair back and took in a deep breath. She would get through this, just like she always did. 

_Mmphh_

A groan called from beside her, causing the woman to snap her gaze, hand a glow again with her golden light. Below, by the river, lay a lone figure. A man, though what species was yet to be determined, bled out nearby. The soft glow faded once more as she approached – she wasn’t one for kicking someone while they were down. Besides, she had come here to heal. Stepping up to the man, the woman in the velvet gown gently knelt to her knees beside him. 

Turning him over, she could immediately see what he was. Vampaneze. Head tilted to one side; the woman observed him further. Long red locks of hair fell across his face and down his shoulders. He was tall and broad; she could tell even lying down. The dark purple skin, a tell-tale sign of a vampaneze, was even noticeable here in the dark. After further observation, the woman found the source of his injuries. Blunt force trauma to the back of the skull, along with a snapped wrist. He would heal, but only if the young woman could stop the bleeding. Vampaneze were incredibly fast healing creatures, but even they could bleed to death if untreated – had the man been awake he would have been fine, but unconscious he would most certainly bleed to death. 

Waving a hand beside her head, the woman’s black locks began to tie themselves into a braid, pulling the strands away from her face. Slowly, she waved her hands across the vampaneze’s face, moving his red hair to get a better look. He had incredibly smooth skin for a creature of the night, with a strong jawline and narrow eyes. Running fingers behind his skull to feel for his wound, the grey eyed woman lifted his head as she moved herself to sit beneath him. Placing his head in her lap, the woman was able to closer examine the creature. Fingers traced the bleeding wound, as a soft chant began. Humming the music of her people, the young woman began to glow, moving her hands back and forth through the man’s hair. With her eyes shut, she worked slowly, patching every millimeter of wounded skin. Her healing song was low and soothing, soft enough for only the closest creature to hear. 

A sudden pressure on her wrist jolted the woman out of her trance. Eyes flying open, she noticed a firm, purple hand on her wrist. Cocking a brow, her bright grey eyes met red, confused yet stern pupils. The pair stared at one another in brief silence, before the woman finally spoke. **“Let go, beastie.”** She said firmly, yet her gaze remaining gentle. Her free hand was still placed on the side of his head, and her gaze never faltering from his. She didn’t plan on spending all night caring for some random creature of the night, and she really didn’t plan on spending her night fighting one either. 

**“Steve…”** the creature replied, his eyes still locked on hers. The woman thought for a moment, searching the creature’s thoughts for any resemblance of what he was referring to. White hair, male, raving eyes. This must have been the Lord she had been hearing about from Evanna and the others. Steve Leo-Leopard? _Stupid fucking name_. The women tore her gaze away from the vampaneze, who’s head still remained in her lap, and glanced over at the river. **“He’s in there,”** she moved her hand from the man’s head to point to the river. 

**“You’re Lord is gone.”**

# __________

The scent of jasmine. 

The rustle of fabric. 

Movement. 

Narrow red eyes shot open as the man jolted from his slumber. His head pounded with pain; he had taken a hit unlike any before. With a soft grunt he pushed himself onto his elbows, taking a glance around the room. Several candles basked the room in a warm glow; if he didn’t know any better it would seem almost comforting. Further observation of the room gave the man a sense of power and wealth – antiques of dark wood, golden features, crystal decanters and… 

He wasn’t alone. 

In the far corner of the room a petite figure lay on plush sofa, silently reading a leather-bound text. Head placed on one palm while the other traced the pages. Raven curls fell lazily upon the figure’s shoulders, framing a pale face. That scent, that sweet jasmine scent radiated from her. The woman suddenly smiled, seemingly aware of his attention to her. 

**“That headache should go away soon. If not, take some that tincture I made for you – right beside you, dear.”** She pointed to the bedside, where a small brown glass bottle sat. The woman looked barely older than thirty, yet she spoke and seemed to carry herself with the age and wisdom of an elder. The vampaneze sat silent, scanning her over as she continued to read her book, not once glancing up at him. With a sigh the woman suddenly shut her book, throwing it onto the sofa as she stood. Clad in a loose black velvet gown, the woman moved with the swiftness of a creature of the night, suddenly appearing by the vampaneze’s side. In seconds a soft palm was upon the man’s broad right shoulder, a gentle pressure coming from the contact. Narrow eyes furrowed as he shifted his gaze to the face that leaned over him. The woman who smelled of jasmine examined him for a brief moment, her almond shaped eyes lazily staring back at the vampaneze before pursing her lips and removing her hand from his shoulder. The man couldn’t determine if the gesture was to comfort him or to keep him from moving – this woman oozed both warmth and power in the strangest way. 

**“What are you doing?”** the man blurted out, causing the small woman to pause and cock an eyebrow at him. Her lips pursed as she sat down on the bed, her hips grazing his arm, her hand still on his shoulder. She looked him the eyes, never faltering in her commanding, yet gentle gaze. 

**“I’m helping you, beastie.”** she said flatly, moving her hand and softly grabbing his wrist, the one his brother had broken. _Vancha…_ The woman paused, holding the man’s wrist in her small pale hand. **“Is alive.”** She said suddenly, gazing over toward the righthand wall and nodding in its direction. **“Barely, but I think you knew that. That nasty little jab you gave him missed his organs, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you did that on purpose.”** She stated, eyeing his wrist and turning it over. He realized his wrist didn’t hurt anymore and glanced at it himself; it was completely healed by now. 

It was true. In the moment of battle, the vampaneze had had one purpose – defend his lord. And he did, until everything went dark. In the process of protecting the lord of the vampanze, the man had faced his own brother. It was a moment that would haunt him until the end of his nights. He knew he would have to face his brother eventually, and he knew that only one of them would come out victorious. 

**“Am I wrong?”**

The voice jolted the man from his thoughts. He stared up at the woman, who’s soft features looked puzzled in the candlelight. **“No.”** he said plainly, before looking back to his wrist. The woman let go of his wrist and sat up from the bed turning her back to him. She moved with the grace of a cat, striding to the other side of the room and gathering her book in one swift movement. The vampaneze watched her in mystified silence, wondering who she was. And more importantly, why she was helping him. 

**“Because it’s my duty,”** the woman said suddenly, glancing back at the vampaneze. She was now in the doorway, barely looking at him as she was halfway out the door. **“Just as I am healing your brother. I am here to clean up the mess you boys made, it’s simply what I do. While you lot and the vampires are poking at each other, me and my kind wait on the sidelines for someone to win. Then, we clean up the mess and the new era begins.”** She paused, sighing softly. Fully turning to him, the woman continued. **“But thanks to that little stunt Darren Shan pulled, no one has won, and we’re all at a standstill. Pity…I was desperately hoping for a change of topic, but I guess I’ll just have to listen to you people bicker like housewives for a few more centuries.”**

Before the vampaneze could process what the woman had muttered, she spun on her heals and was out the door waving at him as she shifted away down the hall and out of sight. 

**“Until next time, Mr. Harst.”**


	2. Big Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Met with an unsure outcome of the War of Scars, Desmond Tiny appoints advisors to the vampires and vampaneze.

The black woods creaked in the wind. Silent figures glistened in the starlight, moving like cats in the night. The gentle patter of feet crunched against the fallen leaves as the men and women formed a circle around a solitary figure. The figures, all shapes and sizes, were cloaked in long black velvet hoods that touched the forest floor. A dull humming came from the men and women, reverberating off of the trees and into the cool night air. A gesture, and the sound ceased immediately.

**You all know why you’re here.** The man in the center of the circle proclaimed, arms held at each side, a defeated glare set upon his large face - a grimace replacing his usual cheeky grin. Like a child whose toy had been taken away, the man pouted as he looked around the circle. Each and every one of them knew their father was infuriated with the situation at hand at was two seconds away from snapping off. **My children, the War of Scars has taken…well quite a tragic turn. Thanks to your little brother, things have gotten much more complicated. So,** the fat man snorted, eyeing the woman in ropes who stood off outside of the circle among the trees nearby.

**There’s been a change of plans.**

* * *

A black-haired woman relaxed among her books, legs up and crossed among a stack as she eyed her guest. Lit by the warm glow of candles, the cavern looked like it was ripped from a different time. Gold and wine colors adorned the rooms and paintings of times long gone hung on the cavern walls. Antiques and skulls were placed elaborately around the cavern, truly instilling the witchy aesthetic the sorceress loved so dearly. A smirk graced the woman’s pale face as she gazed at her companion, who sat with arms folded across his chest and a look of pure disappointment set upon his face.

**What a crock of shit.** The man muttered, looking over to the grey-eyed woman who continued to smirk back at him. **Don’t give me that look, you’re just happy you didn’t get stuck with the smelly one.**

Soft laughter erupted from the woman. **Oh, cool it, Eskel.** The woman cooed, rolling her eyes as she sank deeper into her golden velvet armchair. **I’m not exactly slap happy about it either. But we don’t have a choice in the matter, do we? So, let’s make the best of it, okay?**

A brief silence followed by a huff echoed off the cavern walls. Eskel, a tall and slender young-looking man plopped himself down onto an identical golden armchair across from his sister. Blonde curls wrapped a slender, quizzical face that made the man look almost angelic. His black eyes contradicted his soft, almost androgynous features, giving him the most piercing gaze. Adorned in golden jewelry and dressed in a green silk blouse and tight pants, Eskel was every bit extravagant as he was flamboyant.

**How exactly does daddy expect us to _advise_ these beasts?** Eskel grunted, picking up a golden goblet and sipping on an aged merlot.

**Fuck if I know…I can’t figure out if we’re supposed to be glorified babysitters or actual advisors, but I have a feeling that this won’t be easy.** The woman muttered; eyes distant as she gazed away from her brother. Dressed in a loose black silk floor-length gown, the woman pondered for a moment as she created a goblet of wine for herself. As she lounged a golden cup appeared in her hand, filled with blood red wine. Sipping on the liquid, the sorceress wondered what kind of advisor she would be.

**You’ll keep in touch, won’t you?** Eskel blurted out, snapping the woman from her thoughts. She smiled softly, nodding as she raised her glass to her brother. Lifting out of her armchair and crossing over to Eskel, the woman clinked her glass onto her brothers.

**Of course I will darling.** She grinned leaning down and kissing Eskel on the forehead. The man deviously grinned back at his sister, grasping her soft hand. The pair shared a moment in silence, enjoying each other’s company before laughter erupted in the cavern.

**Have fun at the boy’s club in Vampire Mountain!** The woman snorted, playfully shoving her brother.

**Have fun being a dirty nomad!** Eskel joked back, rolling his eyes as he downed his cup of wine before disappearing into nothingness, leaving the grey-eyed woman to her thoughts and wine.

* * *

The woman stood alone amongst black trees and dead leaves.

Black hair flowed down her back, framing her face as she scanned the trees. She hated waiting and hated being watched even more. She knew they were close, if it wasn’t for their stench alone, their slow and steady heartbeats gave them away. A stern grimace rested on her face as she stood, arms folded across her chest. Dressed in her usual all black ensemble of tall boots, slim pants and a loose blouse, the sorceress stood firm in her cold demeaner.

_Crunch._

Lazily the woman glanced behind her to find a gaggle of creatures standing along the trees. Grey eyes peered at each and every one as she slowly turned to face them, her body language radiating defense. Men, all of them, of all shapes and sizes stood inquisitively watching her, clearly unsure of how to proceed. The woman chuckled to herself as she caught the glance of a familiar face, tall and stony. Locking eyes with this one, the woman stepped closer with confidence and little interest.

**Alright boys, looks like we’ll be spending a lot time together.** The woman began, instilling soft snickers from the men she approached. Rolling her eyes, she continued to make her way over to the pack. **My father has appointed me as your official advisor, seeing the war didn’t exactly turn out in either of the ways he wanted. So let’s all play nice and pretend we want to be with each other, yeah?**

A voice suddenly broke the woman’s train of thought. **Are you here to help us win?**

Shrill laughter erupted from the small woman; a belly laugh that startled the men around her. Exchanging glances, the men were clearly taken aback by the sorceress. **Listen, I truly don’t think father gives a shit who wins. And if this is anything like the last time he appointed me as an advisor, it’s only to spice things up a bit. Father has never cared about anything but entertainment.** More glances were exchanged; this had hit a cord with them. Surely these men were aware of how much of a game this all was to Desmond Tiny, surely.

**What now?** The voice was low and methodical, making the woman pause. She gazed up to the source and smile gently. Gannen Harst stood firm, glancing down at her with the slightest interest. Dressed in a green suit and hair pulled back, the man looked simply regal compared to his companions.

**I help you flourish. Whether that means with peace or with violence, I’m here to ensure you folks get the outcome you deserve.** She replied, eyeing the others with a cheeky grin. She would take the time to get to know these creatures, even if she truly didn’t want to be here. It only made sense to make the best of her current situation, after all. Besides, at least she wouldn’t be cooped up in bloody Vampire Mountain with those stuffy oafs.

**And what may we call you?** Gannen asked flatly and unmoving, eyeing her with perhaps the slightest disdain, or perhaps curiosity – it was hard to tell with him.

Pausing to be the dramatic woman that she was, the sorceress ran a hand through her long locks and placed the other on her hip. In that moment she realized just how fun being a big fish in this little pond could be. She smiled, her pale features lighting up in the moonlight.

**Call me Sabine.**


	3. Turned to Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine joins the vampaneze as they step back from the War of Scars to lick their wounds, while change looms on the horizon.

**You feel it, don’t you?**

The black-haired woman sat silent, the words of her sister resonating within her like an echo. Grey eyes scanned the horizon, high atop the mountain stone she had perched herself upon. Legs dangled aimlessly from the stones as black locks wisped around her pale face in the mighty wind. Whispers of the ancients carried through the sky; the trees old as time and the mountains themselves sang of change. She knew her sister was right in her statement; her blasted sister was always right.

The rope-clad sorceress stood on her tip toes, balancing her large frame on a sharp cliff a few feet from Sabine. The grey eyed witch never enjoyed her sisters chosen form – it was grotesque to say the least – but she understood why Evanna chose to look that way. The male gaze had always ruled over women, resigning the female kind to sexual beings since the beginning of time. It was unfair and cruel, but a fact of life that had not changed. So instead of playing by male rules and seeking to gain their attention, Evanna had rebelled against it completely. If she were being honest, Sabine was jealous of her sister – she herself didn’t have the courage to seem anything less than beautiful. Not that she would ever tell Evanna that.

 **It’s as if a door is being shut.** Sabine finally broke the silence between them, her velvet voice carrying through the mountain top breeze. The clouds circled around the pair, making them look to be floating. High on the mountains, Evanna and Sabine would meet once a month to discuss their lives; their hopes and dreams and the days to come. Sabine and Evanna adored each other, even if they viewed life far different from one another. **Do you think it’s the humans this time?**

Evanna spun on her tip toes in a slow circle, a soft chuckle erupting from her belly. P **erhaps, perhaps, perhaps.** She giggled like a schoolgirl, causing Sabine to roll her eyes like an irritated teen. **The humans evolve by the generation, stronger and stronger and stronger they grow.** Evanna always spoke in a singsong like voice when she was with Sabine, surely to irritate the other woman. Sabine was never one for acting like a child and hated riddles, something Evanna often teased her sister about.

 **Too strong.** Sabine agreed curtly, side-eyeing her sister with a gentle grimace. She hated when her sister spoke like a child, but secretly found it partially funny. **I’m surprised father had us pull out of their affairs. Unless...**

Evanna chuckled nodding her head as she hopped from her cliff over to Sabine’s rocky edge. Plopping down beside her sister, the large sorceress let out a tired sigh, though the smile remained plastered to her round face. **Unless that is exactly what he wants. If the humans remain on the path they currently lead –**

 **There will be total chaos.** Sabine finished her sisters’ sentence, her thousand-yard-stare revealing a sense of worry. She knew the damage humans had and currently done to the beloved planet, and she knew it would only get worse. And with the modern warfare raging across the nations, it would only be a matter of time before the bombs fell from the sky once more. If there was anything that she feared from the humans, it was their love of war and the weapons they had created to wage it with.

A hair-covered hand suddenly rested on Sabine’s shoulder, melting the worried furrow on her brow into nothingness. Glancing over at her sister, Sabine gave a halfhearted smile and nodded. Through thick and thin, right? She found a gentle laugh, reaching over to embrace her sister. The mountain seemed to settle with the two of them, the winds calming and the clouds shifting away. The dawn rose in the distance enveloping the sisters in golden light. Sabine would never tire of the sunlight and its warm rays; she knew she would miss it while amongst her new denizens. But change was inevitable, and she would overcome this just as she had before.

* * *

Amongst the grizzled men, covered in blood and grime and sweat, Sabine stood out like a beacon. Gannen Harst often wondered why the sorceress presented herself in such a manner, so vastly different from Lady Evanna and Desmond Tiny. She was clean and refined, always dawning some sort of variation of black and gold. Sweet jasmine filled his nostrils as the sorceress sat down across from him at the fire. Covered in black velvet and a hooded fur line cloak, the woman looked out of her time. Like a relic from a past he had never known - she simply didn’t fit. Black hair fell lazily down her shoulders, the curls bouncing as she raised a silver cup to clink with a vampaneze beside her. Gannen watched in silence as the woman chatted with the men surrounding her. As he sat across from her, Gannen wondered why the sorceress always dressed as if she were on display, like a doll. He wondered if this was her true form at all. Was she some wolf like creature, just like Evanna? Or some ogre in disguise?

It had been several weeks with her amongst the ranks, watching from the sidelines as they went along their business. She ate with them, accompanied them on hunts, watched them train and spar, even slept next to them. While this was not the lifestyle the woman was clearly accustomed to, Gannen hadn’t witness her struggle or complain. The others had grown less wary of the woman and some even fond of her, but the Harst brother continued to have his reservations.

The cavern they had taken rest in was wide and lit by a large fire that the group had were settled around. The vampaneze had travelled from a settlement in Turkey and were well into the Siberian wilderness now for a long winter. With the hope of peace with the vampires looming in the distance, the vampaneze had decided to settle for winter and regroup for peace treatise in the spring, giving everyone time to recuperate from the recent battle fought. The sorceress had taken time to create spaces for each of the men to sleep, stating that everyone needed privacy, and turned a simple cavern into a multi-roomed abode. With her magic, Sabine had created comfort not only for herself but for the vampaneze for the long Siberian winter ahead.

 **How old are you, anyway?** A youngling named Deacon asked, causing both Sabine and the rest of the crew to pause.

 **What’s the matter with you! You never ask a woman that.** Another rang out. His name was Paolo, an Italian man who had become a vampaneze during the second world war. He was tall and burly and loud – he reminded Gannen of his own brother. Paolo had been the first to befriend the sorceress, who spoke to him in Italian and reminisced of the islands and the sea together.

 **But she’s so, so…** Deacon stuttered over to the other men, his voice much softer than Paolo’s. He ran a hand through his short cropped dark hair, clearly nervous around the woman and barely able to make eye contact. Barely turned and still learning the ways of the vampaneze, Deacon was the newest amongst the small group Gannen had gathered together after the last battle. An Irish boy taken from his home at a young age, Deacon had suffered as a child only to be found and taken in by the vampaneze in his late teens, joining the battle of scars much too young.

 **Go on, say it, boy.** Emir, a short sturdy vampaneze barked, half laughing as he chugged the rest of his drink. Emir had been around almost as long as Harst, almost 300 years. A Turkish man of Ottoman decent, the man had fought wars and seen horrors most couldn’t imagined. But behind the hardened face was a wise creature of great resolve and honor, as any vampaneze should be.

 **You’re like a goddess, is what he means to say.** Paolo bellowed with laughter, breaking the awkward silence as Deacon had been unable to speak. The small group cackled in the night, Sabine letting out deep laughter of her own. Gannen watched as she teased Deacon and thanked Paolo, the woman seemingly comfortable with the attention of the vampaneze. Sipping silently on his own warm drink, the Harst brother found himself wondering how long this would last. Surely this regal façade of hers was just that, a façade. He was certain that in time the witch’s tricks would be revealed. This was most likely just another rouse sent by Desmond Tiny.

 **It’s alright, Deacon, darling. I lost track of the years after Gauls invaded Rome, if that puts it into perspective**. Sabine’s voice snapped Gannen out of his critical thoughts. He hadn’t realized how long he had been staring at her until his narrow yellow eyes met silver orbs in the night. This woman was old, very old. Gannen held her eyes in his for a moment longer, as if to try and reveal her true form. The witch grinned back, as if she knew what he was looking for, before she turned her attention back to Paolo and the others. In a brief moment, Gannen could have sworn he heard her whisper something to him, though her lips didn’t move, and their eyes didn’t meet again.

_If you keep staring at me like that, I might just turn to stone._


End file.
